


Ann-thannath: Gift of the Silmarils

by EffervescentAngel



Category: Rapunzel - All Media Types, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Adventure, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3093194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffervescentAngel/pseuds/EffervescentAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people are in your life by choice,<br/>Some come into it purely by accident,<br/>Some are merely on loan, only there for a specific purpose...<br/>And some are a Gift.</p>
<p>(A Re-Tangled Fairytale)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_ **Ann-thannath: Gift of the Silmarils** _

_ Prologue _

“ **T** hree Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,  
**S** even for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,  
**N** ine for Mortal Men doomed to die,  
**O** ne for the Dark Lord on his dark throne  
**I** n the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.  
**O** ne Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,  
**O** ne Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them  
**I** n the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.”

_-J.R.R. Tolkein_

 

Everyone who knows of, or remembers, the Forging of the Rings of Power During the Second Age either knows this verse or knows the information that lies therein. Three for the Eleven royalty, seven to the Dwarf lords and, last but not least, nine to the kings of Men. It is also well known what happened to the recipients of these “gifts” when the One Ring was revealed. The Elves, first born of Eru Ilúvatar, immediately felt the betrayal and hid the locations of their Rings, which allowed them to maintain their free will. The Dwarves, less wise than the Elves but more headstrong than any other race in middle earth, defeated the dominion of the Rings but were, instead, twisted by them and became increasingly obsessed with mining and fashioning gold, gems and other precious materials from their mountain homes. But the race of Men, weaker in spirit than the others, became completely consumed by their Rings and were, in time, enslaved by Sauron, Master of the One Ring.

 

What is not commonly known is that the Leader of the Nine, the Witchking of Angmar, had a wife as twisted and greedy as he. Only, unlike her husband, Queen Goethelle lusted not for earthly riches and power but for eternal youth and beauty. When it became clear that her husband's power

would not serve her, but was only truly useful in the service of the Dark Lord, Goethelle fled her kingdom and went out in search of an answer to her problems. When none that could possibly help her would, Goethelle began to lose hope and, although she had managed to prolong her life through the use of Black Magic, as she began to lose both her youth and her beauty, she began to live more and more reclusively. Eventually she locked herself away in a tower that had been a part of her husband's once great kingdom and as the years passed and dreams became bitter memories she threw Goethelle away and took a new name. Mother Gothel.

 

` As Gothel's bitterness grew, she became increasingly callous to the troubles of the world around her. And they were great indeed. As darkness grew in the world, even the most remote of beings began to feel the shadow that was slowly spreading like poison through the bloodstream. Even Anar, the sun, so felt this great shift in the world, this rise of evil, that one day his grief became so great that he cried his anguish to Arien, the moon, during their passing in the sky and, during this moment of shared dismay, they each allowed a single great tear to fall from their eyes. The combination of these tears, which mixed the cool, everlasting, dignified beauty of the moon with the brilliant sparkle, and bright intelligence of the sun then mingled to form a single droplet of pure starlight. It fell to the earth, never to be noticed, appreciated or misunderstood... But then again, maybe not. For even as Gothel was leaving her home, fighting to change her destiny, the Fates of others were being immeasurably changed as well.

 

Down to the South, in the great Elven kingdom of Lindon in Beleriand, Eruraviel, niece of Aran Gil-galad and his only surviving relative had recently lost her husband in battle. So great was their love that she began to feel herself fade within hours of receiving the news. The only thing that was keeping her alive was the baby growing in her belly. But as the months passed and the baby grew stronger, she gradually grew weaker and it became increasingly difficult to fight the fading. When it finally came time for the baby to be born, Eruraviel fell ill and the healers knew that her time in Aman was short. They sent people out in search of an answer and, whether through the help of the Valar or some great twist of Fate, there, on a hillside was a small bush with twelve golden berries. They would have passed over this plant but for the fact that the small blossoms opened their petals to the first starlight in the sky and the stems pointed to the moon. They had found their cure.

 

They brought the bush back to the healers who crushed the berries into a juice and brought it to their dying princess. As she drank the juice, something amazing happened. Light glowed from within her and for a brief moment she shone as the dawn. But the baby was soon born and as the infant left her body, so did the healing light. With the last of her strength, she named her baby Anarinya, for the beauty she possessed could have only come from the combined strength of sunlight and starlight. She kissed the child and lost consciousness. Within hours she had faded completely and her soul was in Valinor. Young Anarinya was now an orphan.

 

But even though she had lost her parents, Anarinya was far from alone. The first ten years of her life were spent happily wrapped in the arms of whichever ill-prepared elf she decided to con into picking her up. Her large, crystalline eyes were decidedly the dominant feature of her face and were most effective when widened pleadingly.

 

Even though a ten year old elf is the equivalent of a five year old human child, she displayed a brave curiosity and sharp mind uncommon for someone her age. She spoke her first words at the age of nine months and was speaking nearly full sentences by the time she was two years old. This intelligence, combined with an innate sweetness, enchanted all who met her.

 

But this happy life, like most good things in those troubled times was to end. Violently.

 

The only warning was a single cry that shot through the early morning air like an arrow. A cry filled with so much malice and vengeful lust that it pierced the air and the hearts of all those within the fortress.

 

“Nazgûl!” The word was barely out of the guard's mouth before his head was knocked off his shoulders and sent flying into the courtyard.

 

It was a grisly day and the losses were staggering. But the true tragedy was not realized until the violence was over.

 

Anarinya was gone.

 

~*~*~

 

Terrified of the monster attacking her home, young Ana ran. Where she was going, she did not know, but she kept running. She ran until the sun began to sink into the west and her small legs could no longer carry her. Then she began to look around her and, upon realizing that she didn't know where she was or where her family was she began to weep as only young children can- with great heaving sobs and the occasional wail that could awaken the dead.

 

She was so absorbed in her tears that she didn't see the light slowly coming towards her in the darkness, didn't realize she was no longer alone until she heard the voice.

 

“How did you get all the way out here?”

 

Gothel was so shocked at seeing a little girl sitting alone in the middle of nowhere that it took her a moment to realize the child had been crying. For a moment she and the girl stared at each other wide-eyed until the child's face began to crumple again and Gothel knew that fresh tears were on the way.

 

Something deep inside her tightened and twisted until she felt sick with pain. Another broken promise. Another shattered dream. She had never had a baby of her own. Without thinking, Gothel scooped her up held her close to her chest then began making her way back to her tower.

 

Once safely inside, she noticed that though she had stopped sobbing when picked up, the child still cried with an occasional hiccup. Trying to soothe her, Gothel kissed the top of her head then, stroking her hair very gently, began to sing the only song she still knew, a song she had often sung to herself in moments of darkest despair to soothe the sharp and constant ache of bittnerness.

 

_**F** lower, gleam and glow _

_**L** et your power shine _

_**M** ake the clock reverse _

_**B** ring back what once was mine _

 

_**H** eal what has been hurt _

_**C** hange the Fates' design _

_**M** ake the clock reverse _

_**B** ring back what once was mine _

_**W** hat once was mine _

 

Gothel had closed her eyes while she sang. When she opened them again the last note had died but she noticed a strange light fading, seemingly from the girl's hair. Then she saw that the child slept. It felt right, holding a baby in her arms. Comforting, nurturing, rejuvenating even. She knew the girl's family would be looking for her but she couldn't resist walking to the tall mirror to see this image this once: mother and child.

 

What she saw there was more startling, more shocking than she had anticipated and made her gasp with a delight that far outshone the feeling of holding a babe in her arms.

 

She was young again.

 

Gothel looked down at the little girl and a savage joy rose up within her. At last, after years of bitterness and watching her youth and beauty fade, she had, at long last, found a way to change everything. Or, rather, it had found her and if that wasn't Fate, then what was? Clutching the child closer to her, Gothel turned back towards the door at the base of the tower...

and locked it.

 

For the first time in years, she had found hope and she would never let it go.

 

Ever.

 


	2. Chapter One

 

_2,500 years later....._

 

It was a beautiful day. Perhaps the most beautiful day she had ever seen, Anarinya thought to herself. Not that the world itself was actually any different but to Ana the world was at its best this morning. The autumn air was crisper, the gold and orange leaves on the trees and on the ground brighter, the sun more brilliant than ever before... because her birthday was in one week's time and today she would finally, finally, summon up the courage to ask her mother for what she truly wanted.

 

Every year, she had hinted at this special gift but her mother had never quite caught on. Oh, she was given things for her birthday, beautiful things. Last year she had been given a new silver brush set for her long, golden hair. The year before that, several bolts of fabric from which she might fashion some new gowns. And before that, a set of vivid new paints, one of which was a brilliant white pigment made from sea shells.

 

Each of these gifts was very costly, Anarinya knew. And she was grateful, truly grateful, but the one thing she truly wanted was the only thing that had been denied her.

 

Leaning out the window ever so slightly so that she could breathe in the fresh morning air, Anarinya closed her eyes and reflected on her life with her mother in the tower. All the way back to the night her world had come tumbling down around her.

 

She had grieved for weeks, inconsolable but for the small comfort she found in mother Gothel's arms. And Gothel had been there with her through it all, making sure she ate and stayed warm, stroking her hair and singing until she fell asleep. Truly, the only thing that had kept her sane through the horrible grief of losing all she had ever known was the unconditional love and affection she received from her new mother.

 

As Ana grew up, her new mother taught her all the skills she had once applied on a nearly daily basis: cooking, cleaning,weaving, sewing, candle making, reading and basic math. Ana's natural curiosity drew her to then master additional skills such as geometry, painting, pottery making, basket weaving, and woodcarving as well as physical challenges such as dart throwing and climbing.

 

Bringing herself back to the present, Ana looked around her tower, her home, once again. Yes, she decided, she had a very good life here. Her mother brought her anything she desired from the outside, she was well fed and well clothed. In fact, the only rule she really had was that she never leave the tower- and she understood why, truly. As the last of her kind she needed to be kept safe. She ought to be content.

 

So why did she have the nagging thought that she was simply waiting for her life to begin?

 

She was pulled from her reverie by a familiar voice- the only familiar voice in her life.

 

“Anarinya!!! Let down your hair!!!” Her mother sang out.

 

In a moment, Ana was by the window- the only way to get in or out of the tower- and, with a flourish, threw her hair up over the pulley and down to the ground where her mother waited to climb into their home.

 

This was an almost daily ritual for them: Gothel would leave the tower early in the morning to pick berries or perhaps kill a rabbit or two and then, later in the day, she would return to the tower and climb Ana's hair to the top. Leaving the tower was an incredibly dangerous thing, Ana well knew, and she adored her mother for taking such risks to care for her. In return, Ana kept their tower beautiful and sparklingly clean, a true home and a safe haven for them in a world overrun by peril.

 

And the world was dangerous, Ana had understood this from the time she was small. Her mother had told her tales of hideous beasts that roamed the wild woods and craggy mountain peaks. Terrible creatures with no thoughts but those of their next prey, no emotion but the savage joy of a kill. Monsters as tall as trees and larger around that haunted the night and considered young women a tender delicacy.

 

Demons whose only weakness was sunlight.

 

But as afraid as the stories and legends, and even her own childhood experience, had made her, Ana still wanted one thing and one thing only. She glanced at the retreating back of her mother as she made her way from the main room, down the staircase, into the kitchen to begin making lunch for them and decided her request would gain the most favorable response if she waited. So wait she did. And as she waited, she tried to sort out the best way to plead her case. A nearly impossible case, if she was to be honest with herself, but she must at least try.

 

Moving from the window, her favorite spot, she wandered about the inside of their main room, looking around as if somewhere she might find an answer, might find inspiration. It was a nice room, she thought, the stone walls stretched high up to a pointed ceiling, supported by sturdy wooden beams. There was a large fireplace in the far wall that had helped to keep them warm on many winter nights. Pottery figurines sat on the mantel alongside carved wooden pieces, all Ana's work. Next to the hearth was the spinning wheel. In front of the fireplace sat two rocking chairs, each with a blanket draped over the back. The blankets were thick and woven from fine wool and Ana was so proud of them. She had made them for herself and her mother ten winters ago, when it became so cold the the stones in the walls had begun to frost. In many ways, she reflected, this room was really _her_ room.

 

Ah. There it was. This was how she would plead her case.

 

Confidence bolstered and nerves held firmly under control, Anarinya walked downstairs to join her mother in the kitchen. Now all she had to do was to wait for the right time.

 

Soon.

 

~*~*~

 

Once again, the water swirled and the image before her morphed. This time, instead of a long-ruined fortress, its battlements crumbling and small stones tumbling down from the towers like slow, gray tears, the scene was a wilderness, a vast and treacherous landscape with high, craggy peaks and grassy valleys, overgrown trees and no sign of civilization... Except for a lone tower, built into the

rock on the hillside, hardly detectable at first sight.

 

The walls were made of solid stone and the the peak of the roof raised the building to nearly two hundred feet high, while the ivy growing up the sides served as effective camouflage and attested to the years of neglect. No one had been near that tower for centuries.

 

The image remained stagnant for a few moments and then a bird cry rang out, clear and bright, and a group of small birds came swooping down to rest on the ledge of a small window that sat just under the eave of the conical roof. The birds seemed content here, completely assured of peace. They were pecking at something... small seeds. Why would there be food for the birds in such a place. She frowned and bent her head to get a closer look, one golden, wavy lock falling over her shoulder to gently brush against the white of her gown. There was something missing in this picture, she mused.

 

Suddenly, the birds flew away and disappeared into the edges of her field of vision. A few seconds later a foot popped out of the window. Small with high arches. A woman's foot, she guessed. And in a few minutes she was proved right as a woman emerged from the tower, wrapped in a dark cloak and clutching a rope that kept her from falling. As the woman in the vision lowered nearer to the ground, a narrow winding path became visible. Upon reaching the ground, the woman released the rope and the rope began drawing back up into the tower window and it was then that, what had at first appeared to be a very ordinary, thick rope was in fact made of gold. When the rope was almost completely inside, a hand appeared. Small and white, as though it had never been exposed to the sun with long, elegant fingers and almond-shaped nails, it worked quickly, throwing the golden rope off of an iron hook bolted to the top of the window. Within seconds the hand was gone and the birds were returning.

 

Strange, she thought, why would her mirror show her these things? There was nothing relevant as far as she could tell. Still, for all of its quirks, the mirror never lied to her and, above all, its information was _always_ important. So, for now, she would watch, and wait.

 

 

~*~*~

Well that hadn't gone so very badly, Ana mused as she turned from the window the next day. Her mother had just left the tower and wouldn't return for at least two weeks. That should give her plenty of time to put her plan into action and return to the tower without her mother ever having suspected a thing.

 

Ana felt a sharp twinge of guilt at having lied to her mother. The deep bond they shared came, in part from their ability to be honest with one another and Anarinya knew that she had betrayed that bond. But she would make it up to her mother in the years to come, she promised herself. She had always been and would always be a perfect daughter... when her adventure was over.

 

Smoothing a hand over her bound hair, Ana reflected on the damage she had done last night, the hurt feelings she had caused and the total, overwhelming devotion Gothel had shown for her:

 

_“Mother, please, please, please try to understand. I know there are terrible dangers out there and I know you only want to protect me but I want this more than I have ever wanted anything!! Why can't you see how important this is for me? I know, I just know that I am meant to do this. It's like it's my....destiny!” Ana looked up into her mothers pure gray eyes pleadingly. She knew she was pushing it. She had been pestering her mother about this since luncheon. It was now after supper and mother was showing no signs of weakening any time soon. Well Ana could be stubborn too. So she waited, arms wrapped pensively around her waist, as she waited for an answer._

 

_And waited._

 

_Finally, Gothel turned, a look of incredulity on her face._

 

_“You want to go outside? Oh, darling, look at you, as fragile as a flower. You don't stand a chance out there.”_

 

_Anarinya's attention wavered as her mother went on to admonish that “Mother always knows best.” Words Ana had heard before and was very likely to hear again._

 

_The damage came when Ana tried to protest that she really wasn't as helpless as her mother thought._

 

_“You will never leave this tower! Ever!” Gothel bellowed in uncharacteristic anger._

 

_Unthinking, Ana immediately shot back, “You are not my mother! You have no say in my life!”_

 

_Instantly the fire left Gothel's eyes and her shoulders slumped. She seemed to shrink into herself. No longer burning with anger, she simply looked tired and defeated. Ana had a strong urge to wrap her arms around her._

 

_“Oh, darling”, Gothel whispered brokenly “you are all I have in this world, don't you see that? The only thing I care for.” and Ana had watched, horrified as tears began to fill her mother's eyes._

 

_Ana's pride crumpled and her anger shattered. Whoever had brought Ana into this world, Gothel had fed and clothed her, soothed her hurt, and sung her to sleep, had mothered her for as long as she could remember, and to cause pain to such an important person in her life made Ana feel small and ashamed. Her mother only sought to protect her, she knew. She had no right to treat her so badly._

 

_Rushing to her mother, Ana wrapped her tightly in her arms, silently telling her how much she loved her and how very, very sorry she was._

 

_After a while, Ana felt her mother gently stroking her hair and telling her how much she loved her and she knew the storm was past._

 

_For now._

 

_Later that night, wrapped in the blanket she had woven, Ana walked to the window in the top of the tower and leaned out to let the cool evening breeze blow over her face. Tilting her face up, Ana admired the reason for her fight with her mother._

 

_Every year, around the anniversary of the day Gothel found her, the stars over the Great Wood seemed to glow more brightly. Even now, they stood out among the other stars, so bright and beautiful they nearly took Ana's breath away. All her life Ana had sworn to herself that someday she would be there to admire them up close. Though she could never explain it, she felt as if they were meant for her, calling to her, enticing her._

 

_But mother had warned her away from the Great Wood above all else, for there, she said, were the most monstrous of all Dark Creatures. These were tall and looked quite human but for the cold gleam in their eyes and the sharp fangs concealed in their mouths. These fangs served to drink the blood of their hapless victims, Gothel told her._

 

_Just the thought of an act so hideous made ice run down Ana's spine. But she had natural agility and could move very quietly if she needed to. There was no reason for her to fall into the hands of anyone._

 

_Decided on her course, and feeling the first tendrils of excitement seeping into her, Ana made her way down the stairs to her mother's bedchamber. She knocked until she heard her mother's voice from inside. Opening the door, Ana slipped inside. Gothel was sitting up in bed, reading. At the sight of her daughter, she brightened and, smiling warmly, opened her arms in invitation. Ana needed no further prompting. In one smooth motion she was up on the bed, with her head resting on Gothel's lap. Gothel began petting her hair again and singing the special song she had sung to Anarinya all her life._

 

_As the song ended, Ana cautiously began, “Mother, may I ask you something?”_

 

_“But of course, darling. You may ask me anything!”_

 

_“I've decided what I want for my Birthday...” She trailed off uncertainly._

 

_But Gothel remained calm. “Oh?”_

 

_“I've grown much taller in the last year, and I was wondering you would be willing to give me some more of that blue fabric you brought for me two years ago?” She asked, tentative._

 

_“Ana! That's a two week journey!”_

 

_“I know, mother”, Ana sighed “I just thought it was a better idea than the.. the.. stars.”_

 

_After a few moments, Gothel sighed gustily. Then she said in a voice more tired than anything else, “Well then, I suppose I'd better get some rest.”_

 

_It took a few seconds for the words to sink into Ana's brain. Then she was up on her knees, hugging her mother fiercely, before bounding out of the room to allow her mother to sleep. As she climbed the steep stairs up to her room, Ana observed cheerfully that she should rest as well._

 

_Her mother wasn't the only one who had a long journey on the morrow._

 

 

_~*~*~_

 

Peering again into the mirror, she narrowed her eyes at the scene before her. The golden rope was down again but this time a second figure emerged, soon after the first. She recognized those small white hands but there was something odd about this girl's climbing method. After a moment's observation she realized with a jolt that the rope was in fact _hair_ . The girl was using her _hair_ as an entrance to the tower. The girl was quite strong, as she had demonstrated before but now she could see that there was a grace to her movements that was at once familiar but she couldn't quite place it.

 

Now the girl had reached the ground and as she reached up to grab hold of her hair and pull it off its hook, her hood fell back to reveal...

 

“Of course...” The lady whispered to herself. The girl moved as an elf. She was a fool not to have seen it immediately. It explained so many things but also created so many new questions. The other woman was very obviously human and the young elleth had called her “mother”, though that was obviously not the case, so who were they and why were two women living isolated from all civilization?

 

Turning her attention back to the mirror before her, she saw the vision had changed to show her the Greenwood and all the elves who lived within, then to show only one of them,then again to show the night sky as the girl had seen it, with the stars beginning to brighten.

 

Understanding dawned then and Galadriel, Queen of the Elves of Lothlòrien, smiled.

 

This should be interesting.

 


	3. Chapter Two

_If immortality had taught him anything_ it was the importance of time.

 

Like the flow of a river through a canyon, it was powerful, relentless and unmerciful.  Changing, cleansing and healing.  Nothing caused more pain than to be made to helplessly watch as it brought death and decay. And nothing brought greater joy than to see that same force heal and breathe new life into the world for, truly, time healed all wounds.

 

And  Thranduil, King of the Elves of the Greenwood, felt it all. The life of the forest and of his people pulsed through him like a heartbeat, binding him more tightly than a lover's embrace, sustaining, giving purpose and meaning.

 

Turning to examine the wall on his left he noted with dismay that a crack would soon be visible. He could only hope such a thing would not hurt the integrity of the structure, for the halls of the Woodland Realm ran deep under the earth, hewn from solid rock. Through diligence and skill, what could have been nothing more than a rambling series of caves, barely fit for an animal to live in, had become something to be proud of. The imposing columns had been carved with delicate shapes and intricate patterns from the capitals down to the bases. The doors at the very front, the only way in or out, had been reinforced with iron. Small channels and canals running under the floor brought fresh water from the Great River that ran throughout to places such as the kitchens and the bathrooms. Winding staircases and gently shaped bridges connected the floors and walkways of this underground fortress, allowing its inhabitants to move efficiently through the tasks of the day. And clever ventilation systems and networks of overhead lanterns assured that, although this was a cave, it would never be truly dark or stuffy, as caves were often wont to be.

 

Walking swiftly out of his underground palace and out into the sunshine, a spring in his step, he saw that his son, Legolas, had already slung his bow over his back and was eagerly awaiting him.

 

Wordlessly, they turned and darted off into the woods.

 

For today they were to go hunting.

 

And in a place as mercurial as the Greenwood, you never knew what you might catch.

 

 

_~*~*~_

 

 

Ana pushed her way through the forest, cursing, not for the first time, the fact that she had brought nothing with her but a few pieces of hearty bread and cheese. Food was all well and good, but her bare feet were beginning to hurt and her nose was going numb. The trees above at least gave some protection from the rain but she knew she needed to find shelter soon.

 

She had been walking for three days, each day finding her more tired than the last. She had run for most of the first day and had been pleasantly surprised to find that she could easily cover great distances at speed. But now that it was raining and she had finished the last of her food she was forced to admit a few painful truths to herself.

 

She was cold.

 

She was hungry.

 

And she was lost.

 

For the first time since leaving home, she allowed herself to admit than, just maybe, this hadn't been her best idea. And she almost wished, as another low branch slapped her across the face, that she was still back in her tower, where she had always been protected from everything. There, she could have made a nice fire in the hearth, wrapped herself in  _both_ blankets and settled in to listen to the rain with a cup of hot tea in her hands as she looked out the window and watched the world washed clean.

 

But she immediately banished the thought from her mind. She had never given up on anything she set her mind to before, and she would not begin now. She knew, from past experiences, that, more than anything else, her outlook at this particular juncture, when everything seemed to be going wrong, would determine whether she succeeded or failed in this endeavor.

 

And succeed, she would, she decided, pleased to find that her stubborn streak had decided to reassert itself. She would persevere, as she always had, as she had always been encouraged to do. She was out here to fulfill a childhood dream, to prove to herself that she was more than a sheltered child, unable to care for herself, or worse, a relic of a time long gone. Though her mother couldn't know what she had done, she would always carry this experience in her heart. This little moment in time when she had been entirely free, answering to no one but herself, entirely responsible for whatever happened to her. And in the end, when she was done being responsible, she would go back and submit herself, once more, to the guidance of her mother.

 

The last thought should have been a relief. Instead, it brought a strange feeling, deep in her stomach, though she was loath to acknowledge it.

 

But it felt a little like dread,  with a few drops of guilt mixed in.  But maybe that was just the cold talking.

 

She would sort out these confusing thoughts later, when she was warmer, fuller and rested. Just as soon as she figured out how she was to  (make it all happen).  Scanning her surroundings for anything she might use to improve her situation, she found herself getting lost in the beauty around her. The very freshness of the air, the emerald green of the plants, the soft sound of the rain on the leaves above her.

 

Suddenly, there was a rustling in the bushes, far off to her left, accompanied by a pounding on the ground. Someone was coming! Thinking quickly, she concealed herself  inside a fallen tree.  And just in the nick of time for a few moments later, two figures came crashing into to the small clearing and came to a halt... a few yards from the log that served as her hiding place.

 

From a hole in the log she could see the intruders as they looked around the glade. Were these the monsters mother had warned her about? They certainly didn't look like monsters, and were probably all the more dangerous for it. Their pale blond hair flowed down around their shoulders, falling in silken sheets to almost the middle of their backs. But despite the long hair, there was no doubt that the figures before her were male. Slim at the waist and broad through the shoulders, they carried themselves with a captivating grace, their very postures suggesting they were in charge, of what, she did not know. They were so still, it was disconcerting, almost as though they had stopped breathing though, though she knew that was not the case.  With her sensitive hearing, she picked up the faint sounds of their steady breathing.

 

The wind picked up, just then,  and blew into her  face, forcing her to pull back from her peephole. After blinking a few times, she put her face up to the wood again.  But they were gone.

 

After carefully extricating herself from the log, Ana brushed herself off, grateful once again, for the unique method of braiding that had allowed her to fold her hair around itself so that it reached to just above the ground. Satisfied that she had no bugs on her, she turned her attention back to the task at hand- finding shelter and, if she was very,  _very_ fortunate, some food. The way she had been traveling seemed as good a way to go as any, so she continued on, determination increasing with the rain.

 

But that determination began to wane as the sky darkened and she had found nothing that could serve her- no berries to eat, no where that could possibly serve to shelter her and no water. She was not looking forward to spending another night out in the open, more vulnerable than she had ever been since the night Gothel found her.

 

Absently, she noted that her toes were numb. At least they didn't hurt anymore.

 

Where was Mother now? Was she cold too?

 

Should she have left a note, just in case Gothel came home early?

 

Had she made her bed before she left?

 

Had she washed her breakfast dishes?

 

She knew her mind was wandering horribly, and she must be losing it if she was worrying about dishes now, when she had much more pressing problems, but she could think of no other way to stay awake. And this she must do, no matter what. That thought was as clear as daylight in her mind.

 

Stay awake.

 

Keep walking.

 

So she let her mind wander further, off into childhood memories and adolescent obstacles. To places that were warm...

 

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she didn't fully realize what was happening at first. One moment she was trudging along and the next she was falling.  She fell a long way, or at least what felt like a long way, and then she felt her body make contact with something hard.

 

Warmth.

 

For a few minutes she simply let herself feel it, let her self bask in it. When she summoned up the energy she opened her eyes and realized two things:

 

She was in a large kitchen.

 

She must have fallen through the chimney, for she was lying on the stove.

 

Well.

 

 

~*~*~

 

Father and son returned home soon after dark  from a fruitful day of hunting. Though they had found nothing that could be roasted for a nice supper, they had run off a pack of orcs that had been foolish enough to venture into their territory. Hardly worth the trouble, really. Since the Battle had felled the Dark Lord some years ago, the orcs were divided and often moved in groups like the one they had dealt with today- small, disorganized, leaderless. They rarely posed any real threat these days. Still it was better to keep their lands free of such creatures, who could be very lethal indeed.

 

The pair bid each other goodnight before parting to wash up and settle in for an evening of well-deserved relaxation.  But instead of heading directly to his chambers, the Elvenking took a detour to the kitchens for a quick bite.

 

As he neared the kitchen door he thought he detected a faint scent. He paused a moment to briefly enjoy it. Honeysuckle and Jasmine. A memory tugged at him but danced out of his mind before he could place it.

 

Opening the ornately carved kitchen door he was assailed by a much stronger and far more easily definable scent. Ham baked in honey. He turned towards the smell and saw the ham sitting out on a low table, across the room from where it belonged, and next to it was a loaf of bread, also out of place. Both had been hastily abandoned.

 

Someone had been in the kitchen. Was  _still_ in the kitchen, or he would have seen them in the corridor.

 

Which wasn't a crime, or even odd, in of itself, but one of his subjects would not have left this food out so carelessly and certainly would have greeted him upon his entry. So who-?

 

_THWANG!!!_

 

The loud sound echoed in the quiet kitchen  even as pain ricocheted through Thranduil's skull like a cannon blast.

 

And then everything went black.

 

 

~*~*~

 

Ana stared down at the figure before her in mute horror for a few moments. Had she just killed someone? She didn't know whether to be proud she'd vanquished a monster or horrified she'd struck something of his size down so easily. Not that her swing had been easy, per se, but the principal still applied.

 

When she first found herself on the stove top, Ana had immediately jumped off before realizing that the heat of the kitchen came, not from the stove, which had turned out to be stone cold, but from a stoked fire burning in an enormous fireplace on the opposite side of the room. When she got her bearings, she began foraging and had soon procured a gorgeous baked ham and a loaf of fresh bread. She was so hungry at first, and so very, very grateful for the sudden change in her circumstances, that Ana didn't immediately consider who's, or more importantly _what's_ , hospitality she might have been imposing on.

 

Soon after this troubling realization, she had heard faint footsteps from the other side of the door. And the footsteps, she had realized in a panic, were rapidly growing louder.

 

Dropping her food, Ana had bolted for the first cover she could find and had grabbed hold of the only weapon she had been able to avail herself of- a large iron skillet.

 

And now she had a unconscious man at her feet. Or a dead, monster, she wasn't sure. She recognized this...creature, though. He had been in the clearing earlier. She would have thought that he would seem less threatening now that he was unconscious at her feet. Still, she was afraid to approach.

 

Cautiously, she inched forward until she was standing next to his head. Kneeling, she slowly reached out to touch his hair, spread over his face like a veil. It was like cornsilk, fine and soft, but surprisingly heavy. Then she swept his hair back from his face, curiosity overriding fear.

 

_Oh..._

 

She hadn't expected this.

 

The skin of his face, though perfectly smooth, had a glowing kind of vitality to it. His mouth, though not overly full, was nicely curved. His nose was perfectly straight. His jaw was square. At least the side she could see, at any rate. For all she knew, he could still be horribly disfigured. Could still be a monster.

 

Fangs. She needed to check for fangs.

 

 

Carefully, she touched one finger to his mouth and lifted his upper lip. No fangs, but his teeth were very white and very straight.

 

His face was beautiful, like an illustration. His whole countenance was a blend of creamy hues and textures combined with the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the severity of his jaw. His eyebrows, however, were dark, nearly black and were almost startling. His eyebrow twitched and, whether she was so tired and overwhelmed she was turning daffy, or because she truly found it comical, she had a sudden urge to laugh.

 

A single, hysterical giggle escaped her before she saw his whole face begin to move. In one swift motion she had the skillet in her hand again and, just as his eye began to crack open, she swung, harder than before, and knocked him out, cleanly, a second time.

 

Now, what was she to do with him?

 

 

~*~*~

 

When Thranduil next awoke, it was dark, and, though he couldn't say exactly how he knew, he was was still in the kitchen. His head throbbed as though his skull had served as an anvil and his eyes were covered. He was bound to a chair. He tugged and pulled and twisted but was unable to free himself, or move. His first thought was to yell out, but instinct told him he was best served by staying as he was.

 

So he waited.

 

And as he waited, he observed, stopped trying to open his eyes and, instead, simply stilled and let himself feel.

 

And hear.

 

And smell.

 

Honeysuckle and Jasmine. Where had he smelled that before?

 

His sensitive ears were picking up things as well. Soft, even breathing, if a bit rapid, and a heartbeat. Surprisingly close.

 

Then a voice spoke low at his ear, soft, yet strong. Cultured and full of menace. Feminine

 

“You may struggle all you wish, Monster, but it will avail you not.”

 

_Monster?!_ The last time he had been called that, he had been playacting with Legolas, when the boy was just old enough to hold a wooden sword on his own.

 

But the woman wasn't done talking.

 

“You don't fool me, you know. I have been warned of your kind since I was young. So you may do as you wish. Change shapes, breathe fire, cast dark spells. I can assure you,” in one swift motion, the cover was pulled from his eyes and he was suddenly able to put a face to the voice. “It won't do you any good.”

 

He couldn't say exactly what he had expected his captor to look like, but he certainly hadn't been expecting a young elleth with hair the color of sunlight and eyes bright and unfathomable as the sea. For a moment, he wondered if this was his son's idea of a joke before dismissing the idea. Legolas was full of laughter and life, but his humor never took this particular shape. Besides, he had never seen her before.

 

Walking around his chair, she continued, almost casually, “So what would your plans have been for me, Monster? Would you have drunk my blood? Eaten me whole?” As she asked the last question, she grabbed hold of his bindings and pulled him forward so that the back legs of his chair were off the ground and he noticed for the first time that he was bound in hair... her hair, apparently.

 

Still he remained silent, for he'd found that often the best way of gaining insight was to say nothing, ask nothing, and simply allow the scene to play out as it would.

 

But he found it increasingly difficult to remain both silent _and_ expressionless as she continued her increasingly outrageous list of theories on her fate if their situations had been reversed. So he allowed himself small reactions to each statement.

 

“Cut and sold my hair?”

 

To this, an ever-so-slight tilt of the head.

 

She spoke more quickly than before, “Sold me?”

 

A subtle upward tilt of the lips.

 

At each movement, he noted she paused very slightly. Still, she kept on. She was a brave little thing.

 

“Held me? Tortured me?”

 

Her voice had a barely discernible tremble to it now. What a vibrant imagination she had!

 

Her theories were nothing if not insulting, but he replied with nothing but a single raised eyebrow.

 

Suddenly she jerked back from him and, in doing so released her hold on his bindings- the only thing that had kept him from falling face-first to the floor.

 

As he was doing now.

 

But she stopped him right before he hit the floor and he found himself staring once again into her face- this time it was hard and determined, all traces of fear gone.

 

“Well it doesn't matter, Monster, because _I_ caught _you_ , so whatever you would have done to me, whatever terrible death would have been planned, put it from your mind.” She spoke slowly and deliberately, her words careful, voice hard, disdain showing clearly on her face.

 

Had he ever been threatened thus, and in his home? The answer rang clearly in his mind: _no._ Not when Haradrim from the south were trespassing on their land, during his father's time. Not when the Dark Lord was at the height of his power and all around him, kingdoms had been destroyed, families torn apart- not even the great Gil-Galad had been able to protect Lindon.

 

And here, in his home, his _kitchen_ , a slip of a girl was doing just that. He felt something, deep in the pit of his stomach, grudgingly, he acknowledged it as awe. Whoever this girl was, she had courage.

 

That awe, however, quickly turned to amused outrage with her next words.

 

“I may, however, be willing to spare your life”, here she paused and narrowed her eyes at him, “On one condition.”

 

Lifting his chin, he spoke with as much dignity as he could muster, considering the fact that he was trussed up like game to be roasted.

 

“And what, exactly, might that be?”

 

She came close again, her scent wafting around him and something pricked at the back of his mind before slipping away again, unidentified.

 

Her words came out carefully as she phrased her request. “I want you to tell me what makes the stars above the woods shine so brightly this time each year and, if they can be reached, I want you to take me there.”

 

“Mereth en Gilith?” he asked.

 

Every year, for over a century, the stars directly above the Greenwood had grown their most radiant on the night of the penultimate New Moon of autumn. To celebrate this extra gift of starlight, all the elves of the Greenwood, Sindarin and Silvan alike, gathered together to celebrate. To drink more deeply, to laugh more loudly, to live more fully, for on that night, under the stars, they _were_ more.

 

The fact that she did not recognize when she was addressing one of her own kind was puzzling. The fact that she thought him a monster was amusing. But the fact that she had been able to enter his kingdom, undetected, was disturbing.

 

So who was she and where had she come from?

 

He would find all this out in time. For now he simply lowered his gaze, as if truly cornered, and said, “If that is what you wish.”

 

The only response he got to his capitulation was a delighted gasp from above him that was soon followed by the realization that she had released her hold on his chair.

 

As the floor came closer to his face the thought that had been evading him suddenly rushed to the forefront of his mind. Honeysuckle and Jasmine. He had smelled it in the clearing earlier, so faint it had hardly been detectable through the rain.

 

She had been there.

 

That was his last thought before he lost consciousness for a third time that day.

 

 


	4. Chapter Three

_Ana released a breath she hadn't realized_ she'd been holding as she felt a grin spread across her face. She had done it. She had not only had a battle of wills with the monster, she had _won_ it.

 

Directly in front of her, hung a large pot, highly polished, and in it, she could see her reflection. Snatching the skillet up from the counter she had set it on, she began twirling it around in her hands, and as she twirled she began speaking to her reflection, wisher her mother could be here to witness her triumph.

 

“Too fragile to handle myself in the wild, mother? Too weak to look after myself? Well look out because I—AH!”

 

She ended her gloating monologue by whacking herself on the side of the head. Feeling the way her skull began to ache, she felt some sympathy for the monster she had used the skillet on. Although, she decided, had their situations been reversed, he might have done much worse to her.

 

Glancing down towards her feet, she looked at the monster. Or, more accurately, she looked at the back of the chair she had tied him to.

 

Upon first glance, she had decided he really didn't _look_ like a monster. After speaking to him, she had to admit he didn't really _sound_ like one either- at least not what she had always imagined a monster would sound like. Weren't they supposed to bellow angrily and make threats that would make the bravest of men afraid?

 

He had done neither. He had sat their quietly and let her speak. When she threatened him, he had been _amused_. And when she had demanded, he had conceded. He hadn't been angry. He hadn't even seemed surprised. If anything, he had seemed _bored_ at times. For a brief moment, she found herself wishing he _had_ bellowed.

 

But he _had_ agreed to take her to see the stars, hadn't he? She would just have to keep a close eye on him and make sure he didn't try anyth--

 

 

Suddenly, the door banged open and a group of men rushed through. They were all tall and fair like the one she had been questioning and moved with a kind of fluid grace that spoke of physical agility. They didn't stop to question her, only stooped to unbind her captive in the chair, while two of them went straight to her. Before she knew what was happening, the skillet had been snatched from her hands and she was being dragged- hair and all- from the kitchen.

 

They brought her down a long narrow hallway then made a sharp turn down a much wider one. This soon brought them to steep and winding staircase. Absently, Ana noted that everything seemed to be carved from solid rock, but she was too terrified to think much else. The stairs continued until they reached a gate that was a full ten feet high and made of iron, worked in an intricate pattern. They paused a moment to enter the gate and briefly confer with a guard in a language she did not understand then they continued on, this time along a narrow ledge, small rooms spaced along the wall, each with its own iron gate, carved in the same style as the first. They took her past all these, however, and brought her down another set of stairs that led into another hallway that was much narrower than the first two and was a dimly lit. There were no doors at the end of this hallway save for one, at the very end. This cell was much larger than any of the others they had passed by but was very dark inside and entirely isolated. In one smooth motion. They shoved her inside and closed the gate firmly behind her. She heard they key twist in the lock and then she was alone.

 

It didn't take long for the first tear to fall. And it was followed by many more soon afterwards.

 

 

 

 

~*~*~

 

Thranduil woke in his chambers to the sound of soft whispering from somewhere beside him. Upon opening his eyes, he saw that it was his son, talking quietly with one of the guards.

 

Legolas must have sensed that he had regained consciousness for he soon turned to him and said, “Ada, you're awake! We have been worried.”

 

“How long have I been unconscious?”

 

“Through the night, Ada. It is just past dawn”

 

Though his head still ached, his mental clarity was returning to him and he pulled himself up into a sitting position. “What of the girl?”

 

“In the dungeons” Legolas' eyebrows drew down slightly as his mouth thinned.

 

This was an expression Thranduil knew well. Legolas, generally speaking, was a gentle soul, but fiercely loyal to his father. This loyalty was a trait which had always brought out the soldier in Legolas. The warrior.

 

Thranduil could only imagine what his son had thought, seeing him unconscious and bound like that- it must have affected him deeply, even though it was evident that he had no injuries aside from a bruised head. This cave was their home. Born after the defeat of Sauron, Legolas had spent his life in the vast, beautiful, expanse of the Greenwood. And, now, this girl, a stranger, had found her way in, past their defenses, their keen senses, and had captured the _king_ _._

 

That last thought, the idea that _she_ had bested _him_ , stung his pride and put spur to him. He would solve this mystery, solve _her_. And soon.

 

 

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Ana couldn't say just how long she had been in her cell but she had to admit to herself, once her tears had dried, that although the cell was dark, it was both dry and, surprisingly, clean. At verious points in time, she had been brought food. And although the food looked nothing like the exquisitely prepared victuals she had found in the kitchen and the water had a bit of grit in it, neither, thus far, had made her sick.

 

But the food was but a distant memory now and she was beginning to grow hungry again. Rather than give her captors the satisfaction of hearing her ask them for anything- if they even heard her- she distracted herself with a recounting of her journey's events.

 

She had acted rashly earlier and she was now paying the price. She had foolishly assumed that

just because the monster had been alone in the kitchen that he was alone in his dwelling. She hadn't figured out a way to get back out in case things went wrong. And she had underestimated the monster because apparently he had friends. Many friends.

 

And this house wasn't so much a house as it was a series of underground caves, which certainly supported her “monster” theory. None of her reading had mentioned any creatures but goblins and trolls living in caves so how, exactly, was she to classify her monster? He had certainly looked nothing like the illustrations of goblins or trolls from her books and the creatures her mother had warned her of were not cave-dwelling.... Unless they had adapted. She had seen no evidence of the fangs her mother had warned her about, but maybe they came out when they fed.

 

But if their main source of nourishment was blood, then why the bountiful larder she had discovered in their kitchen? Indeed, why _have_ a kitchen at all, unless it was to feed their victims until they had need of them. Although, if that was true, then why had they fed _her_ the way they had?

 

As she pondered the possible species of her captors, she found a low bench, carved out of the wall, and lay down on it. In a few moments she had drifted to sleep.

 

_She stood_ _on a grassy hillside. Before her, not two hundred yards away, stood two figures, a man and a giant spider. She watched as the spider ripped two trees from the ground, destroying the roots in the process._ _The sight sent a sharp jolt of pain through her._

 

_As the icy wind whipped around her, she cried out for them to stop, but they ignored her. When they had laid the trees to waste, the man knelt down and reached into the holes where the roots of the tree had once been, and pulled something from them._ _The spider made a noise that sounded like approval._ _Unable to see what_ _he held_ _, Ana tried to shift to the side for a better view, but found she was unable to move._ _She called out again desperate to stop them, to distract them, to do anything. Though she could not say how, she knew she was witnessing a great tragedy._

 

_As the pair turned, she saw the man's face for the first time. It was structurally beautiful, like a building, but his eyes... His eyes held no trace of humanity, of a soul. He spoke and Ana wanted to run, for the words did not come forth flowing like water, as the cadence of the language suggested they should, but instead came twisting and writhing from his mouth like bile. The sound reverberated through the air and into the ground, filling her veins with ice and her heart with fear. As he continued, the shadows lengthened, the wind increased and the moon dimmed. Off to the side, Ana saw two monstrous creatures approach. They were hideous, their huge clawed hands hung at their sides, barbed tails dragging behind. Their skulls had the shape of a mountain goat's, with horns to match. They exuded fire but their blackened flesh did not burn. Instead, it seemed to roll, like lava._

 

_When they reached the first pair, the creatures bowed respectfully and moved to stand on either side of the man and the spider. Then the four silently turned and strode away, leaving Anarinya alone on the hillside, watching as the two pits that once held the trees grew seemingly larger and blacker, as if the very earth was crying for the loss it had endured. Ana's mouth opened to scream... and she found she could not speak._

 

She woke up in a cold sweat, panting, ready to cry for her mother, before remembering where she was. The dreams were getting worse. More detailed, more violent. Her mother had often told her she had an active imagination, but these dreams felt like so much more. They had a color and depth to them that made her sleep feel as active as waking. And when a dream was so dark as this last one, she found she bled inwardly for a while after. Maybe it was the cave. It was certainly large enough for a giant spider. And the lamps hung from above like the glowing jewels from her dream.

 

Yes. That was it. It was all just a reaction. Just a dream.

 

 

When she had calmed herself down, she slept again. And she slept for a long time.

 

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

“My lord, I bring news from the South.”

 

Thranduil looked briefly at the messenger before him, absently waving his hand for the elf to speak, before once again becoming consumed in his own thoughts. Then the messenger's words began to register.

 

“... What did you say?”

 

“There have been reports of activity in the ruins of Dol Guldur. Strange animal cries and voices speaking a strange tongue. Always at night and never when people have ventured too close.”

 

Here the messenger paused, hesitant to give voice to the possible implications of such occurrences. He chose the middle ground.

 

“Sire... Do you suppose...?” He trailed off.

 

“Don't be foolish. The Men of that region are over-fond of their drink and prone to flights of fancy. Why should we put faith in any account of theirs?”, came the reply.

 

But the servant had heard the barely concealed doubt in his master's voice. So he waited for him to continue.

 

Before long, the king spoke again.

 

“Send one of ours to Dol Guldur, that we may discern the truth of the matter for ourselves.”

 

The messenger bowed and left.

 

 

 

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

 

 

 

The next thing Ana felt was a large hand shaking her shoulder roughly, soon followed by a gruff whisper, “Get up!”

 

Slowly, she rose, her body aching. She didn't know how long she had been asleep but it felt as though it had been days since she'd last moved.

 

She was dragged unceremoniously from her cell and she had to hold her hair bundled in her arms to keep from tripping over it.

 

When she was once again brought into the lit portion of what must be the dungeons, she had to close her eyes against the glare. But they moved mercifully quickly through that area and into the dimmer corridors and winding stairs she remembered from before.

 

This time, though, they didn't turn down the narrow hallways that would lead, eventually, to thekitchens. They continued on to another set of stairs and began climbing. As they climbed, the walls grew taller and the path wider. When they finally reached the end of the stairs, Ana found herself in an enormous, multilevel, open space. Here, there were thick stone columns that reached the height of the enclosure, and platforms were connected by bridges. As they continued along another set of footpaths they quickened their pace and Ana stumbled trying to keep up but they seemed not to notice. Eventually they turned and brought her up a long flight of stairs.

 

At the very top there was a large, octagonal platform with pillars at each angle. Guards stood at either side of the entrance to the platform, their expressions revealing nothing. They stood aside to allow her, and the soldiers holding her, through. When they reached the center of the floor, Ana was flung to the ground and had to drop her hair to brace herself.

 

From somewhere in front of her, a voice spoke, “Leave us.”

 

Cautiously, Ana looked around her- they seemed to have gone- but hesitated to look ahead. If the guards had been unconcerned about leaving her alone with whomever was in front of her,he must be dangerous indeed, for didn't they believe her to be a threat?

 

The voice spoke again, “Stand up.”

 

Still she remained unmoving. Ana had never considered herself a coward before, but she realized that she had never been truly vulnerable before. And that realization made her afraid- so, very afraid.

 

If the voice had been curt before, it was steely now, though quiet, “Stand up and look at me.”

 

Slowly, carefully, Ana rose. Warily, she lifted her head and looked up. And up. And up.

 

Not a full five feet from her, another staircase began. It twisted upwards to small platform at the very top. And there, on that platform, was her monster.

 


	5. Author's Note

Hello Dear Readers!!

If you are reading this, I have not forgotten you, or this work. After a long interval of terrible writer's block, I am working as we speak to update this and my other incomplete works. Thank you so much for your patience and loyalty.

~EA

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!
> 
> So, just in case anyone recognizes this fic, I have been posting it on Wattpad. I have the same UN on there as I do on here, so yes, it's me, haha.
> 
> In this fic, I have combined two of my favorite characters, so I hope you enjoy them as much as I do! xD


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